


Forgiveness is a Gift

by Batsutousai



Series: Paper Walls [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hot Professor Edward Elric, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The military is desperate to get their hands on renowned alchemy genius, Dr Edward Elric, but he's not too hot to sign his soul away to them for reasons no one can figure out. Enter Colonel Roy Mustang, the trump card the military hadn't known they had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness is a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> There I was, two nights ago, trying to go to bed, and my muse popped up – little fuck – and suggested something along the lines of 'Hot Professor!Ed + Colonel!Roy = smexy times!' Which, because this is me, devolved into 13K worth of some of attempts at bad humour and a fuck-tonne of angst. With eventual porn, yes. (And then more angst. Just because.)
> 
> I got a whole four hours of sleep over the course of writing this. It has not been edited. I _have_ had a bit more sleep since finishing it, but not nearly enough, so I have zero on the sorry metre. You're welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> You can also read this at [LiveJournal](http://batsutousai.livejournal.com/365719.html).

Roy just sort of...stopped for a moment, when the kid – young man, really – who'd offered to play guide for him pointed at the infamous Dr Edward Elric, East University's newest Head of Alchemic Studies. The man had been lauded as a genius in his field, an opinion Roy had shared after reading just one of his published papers. The military had been trying to get their claws into Dr Elric since almost before he'd finished his PhD, but he'd never once responded to any attempt at communication, and seemed to have a talent for avoiding soldiers. When Roy had received the unenviable task of convincing Elric – Maes had started humming the funeral dirge over the phone when Roy'd rung him about it – he'd actually looked forward to the chance to talk to such a brilliant alchemist. 

Of course, the last thing he'd expected was to find a gorgeous blond – no, that colour was _gold_ – haired man who couldn't have been much older than twenty-five, and he cast the young man – hells, he was practically the _same age_ as the man he'd pointed out – who'd led him over a disbelieving look. 

The young man grinned. "Not playing you, I swear. That's Dr Ed." 

"Thank you for your assistance," Roy offered, and the young man rolled his eyes and left. 

The golden blond man was waving off a couple of what he assumed were students as Roy approached, and he waited until they'd finished their goodbyes – all calling him 'Dr Ed' – and were walking down the hall in a different direction from Roy, before he called, "Dr Elric?" 

Elric turned toward him, and Roy found himself pinned by eyes that were as gold as his hair. Dear _gods_ , the man was gorgeous, and a part of Roy's brain distracted itself with trying to figure out if it was against the law for him to take his target out to his favourite restaurant on the military's coin, then take him home and fuck him until they were both exhausted. 

And then Elric snapped, "Who the fuck're you?" 

South-eastern accent, Roy recognised. His language was a little crude, but he was still more then gorgeous enough to forgive that. (He did downgrade the choice of venue to his _second_ favourite restaurant, however.) "Simply a fellow alchemist impressed by your work," he said with a slight bow and his most charming smile.

Elric looked down Roy's body and then back up again, and his pupils were noticeably dilated when he met Roy's eyes again. "Really," he said a bit flatly, but with a breathless edge. 

Roy couldn't help a smirk at that little show of interest as he prowled closer. "Mm. Quite." 

Elric sort of swayed toward him, eyes going half-mast, and Roy had about half a moment to mentally crow his victory, before he was suddenly yanked forward by his belt and Elric's expression was twisted with fury as he held up Roy's silver pocket watch between them, which he didn't even remember switching to these trousers, as much of an ingrained habit carrying it around had become. "You're just another _dog_ ," Elric snarled, venom lacing his words and ice fallen over his stunning eyes. "A fuckin' bitch in heat, lookin' to do anythin' for your masters." 

Hands shoved against Roy's chest with a surprising amount of strength and he stumbled backward, his pocket watch slamming smartly against his kneecap. Somehow, he managed to keep his balance, but it was a near thing. 

"Get out," Elric snarled, pointing past Roy, back the way he came. "You've got five minutes before I call fuckin' security on your arse. 'Cause I'll bet your masters'll be fuckin' _ecstatic_ to hear 'bout you gettin' tossed out." 

If Roy had learnt anything during his career, it was when to retreat. 

Outside the gates, he pulled out his mobile and rang his best friend. 

_"Still alive?"_ Maes inquired. _"I'm impressed. Unless you chickened out. In which case–"_

" _Hughes_ ," Roy interrupted, "he's gorgeous. He also just threatened to call security on me and called me a bitch in heat." 

Maes forwent the funeral dirge in favour of laughing his head off. 

Some days, Roy wondered why they were still friends. 

-0-

Ed let the door to their flat slam closed behind him as he called, "You'll never fuckin' _believe_ what happened today!" 

"Welcome home, Brother," Al called back. 

Ed kicked off his boots in the general direction of the mat Al insisted they keep their shoes on, snarling, "They let some fuckin' military _dog_ onto the campus. Prolly 'cause he was muckin' about in civilian wear, like that actually fuckin' _hides_ what self-important _pricks_ they all are." 

"Mm-hm," Al said. 

"Ugly bastard caught me right after my ten o'clock class, swannin' right on up to me with his droopy face and goin' on about how 'impressed' he was with my work." He stepped into the living room, where Al was sitting on the couch, a pile of books spread over the coffee table and his laptop opened on his lap, which he was squinting at in that way that always made Ed wonder if he needed glasses. He also had one cat flopped gracelessly over each leg, probably cutting off the circulation.

"Mm-hm," Al said. 

"Fucker was wearin' that pretentious time piece they're all brain washed to think is _cool_ or some shit, hangin' out like he thought I was fuckin' _blind_ or some shit." 

"Mm-hm," Al said. 

Ed could feel his left eyebrow starting to twitch. "Threw him right fuckin' out. Pink and orange polka-dotted trousers and all." 

"Mm-hm," Al said. 

Ed leant over the back of the couch and covered his brother's eyes. "You haven't heard a fuckin' word I've said, you little shit." 

Al's mouth turned with the sort of wicked smile that sent a vague whisper of uncertainty to Ed's animal-brain, then he said, "This unfairly hot guy came up to you today, sayin' he was interested in your work, except you spotted his pocket watch chain and realised he was a State Alchemist and had to throw him out to save face, even though you actually wanted to shag him." Al ducked the hand covering his eyes and grinned up at Ed. "Also, his trousers offended you because he was wearin' them." 

Laughter echoed out from the kitchen. 

Ed blinked at his brother in disbelief. "Who the fuck taught you to use that sorta language? I should wring their fuckin' neck." 

Al ducked his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

"And what the _actual fuck_ is Winry doin' in the fuckin' _kitchen_?" he added, raising his voice. 

"Making dinner!" Winry called back. 

"Oh hell," Ed muttered. 

"Sick bucket's already stashed under your bed," Al offered. 

Ed made a show of shoving on his shoulder, like he was intending to push him off the couch. Except he wouldn't, both because of the laptop, and because they always ended up breaking furniture when they started rough-housing. And, contrary to Winry's belief, he _was_ capable of learning from past mistakes. 

Al put his hands to the keyboard, showing he was intending to get back to whatever work Ed had interrupted. (Probably his thesis or some last-minute paper or another; Ed wasn't so old he'd forgot what a joy the end of autumn term was like.) "Did you at least get the hot State Alchemist's name?" 

"Fuck you. I have _principles_."

"Not sure what that has to do with a quick shag." 

"Go wash your fuckin' mouth out. You're way too young to be usin' that kinda language." 

Al looked up so Ed wouldn't miss him rolling his eyes – he was, in fact, only sixteen months younger than Ed, and even subtracting the time he was in the coma didn't take him under eighteen – then turned back to the computer. "Go check the fire alarm." 

Given that they'd had to evacuate due to one of Winry's cooking attempts three years ago, Ed took that suggestion seriously and left his brother to his work. 

Surprisingly, dinner resulted in neither a fire, nor any bouts of food poisoning, which was exactly the comment Ed made to Winry as they were cleaning up. 

He had no regrets, even if he did end up with soapy dishwater splashed in his face. 

-0-

Operation 'Get in to Edward Elric's Pants On the Military's Coin, Take Two', was halted before it could be put into effect, on account of one of the generals somehow finding out about Roy's failure and using it as proof that he was unsuited for this particular task – never mind that he'd got closer than _anyone else_ – so he was pulled and it was handed off to someone else. 

_"How's hell looking, this time of year?"_ Maes asked as soon as Roy accepted the call. (Which he really only did to make the damn thing shut up. He'd just hit the ignore button, but previous experience said Maes would just keep calling until he answered, eventually involving the rest of his team. And the minute he involved Riza, Roy was dead. So it was really just self-preservation that had him answering the first time.) 

"Depends how spectacularly Hakuro flops," Roy shot back, because Major General Hakuro had ended up with the task of wooing Elric, and Roy didn't doubt for a second that he was going to fail. 

Maes snorted. _"When are you going to make a second pass at your newest heartthrob?"_

"How old are you, again?" 

_"I learnt it from Elicia! Which reminds me, I have new pictures! I'll have to text them to you later!"_

"Spare me." 

_"Actually, I should probably email them, instead. There's quite a few..."_

"Hughes, I swear I'll send you a virus to wipe your hard drive it if you send me another batch of three hundred photos of your daughter." 

Maes made a noise which Roy was nearly certain was a raspberry blown directly into his mobile's speaker. 

"Why are we friends, again?" Roy muttered, rubbing at his eyes. 

_"Probably because I can tell you things like which supermarket Elric shops at every Saturday evening, and the coffee shop he stumbles into each weekday morning."_

Roy felt his mouth starting to widen into a grin and did his best to tamp down on it. "Ah," he said with no small hint of satisfaction, "now I remember." 

_"Please save your terrible flirting attempts for people who aren't happily married to the most wonderful and beautiful woman on the face of the planet."_

Roy rolled his eyes. "No. Pictures." 

_"How about only...twenty-six?"_

"Hughes." 

_"Ten? One for each year that Elicia has blessed my–"_

"What's the smallest part of you that I can burn to a crisp to keep you from taking any more pictures?" Roy mused. Because threatening bodily harm had become his messed up way of agreeing to Maes' terms at some point during the war. 

_"See if I ever try to help you out again,"_ Maes complained with a huff, before very pointedly hanging up. 

Less than an hour later, Roy received an email with ten photos of Elicia posing in front of some papers, all of which had names of businesses in East City, with his and Maes' code for times of the week under each one. 

Roy had to bury himself in paperwork to combat his victorious grin. 

-0-

Saturday evenings were their perfect storm: It was the only night of the week that they could all be guaranteed to be in the house and _not_ scrambling to complete work for the next day. Which, inevitably, had made it shopping night. 

Of course, as with all events involving Ed and Winry, it either went completely to hell, or suspiciously smoothly. And given that particular Saturday had started with Winry's time-deaf girlfriend calling from Xing at arse o'clock, waking Ed less than two hours after he'd got to sleep, it was looking to be a 'gone completely to hell' sort of outing. 

Thankfully, Al was aware of Ed's tendency to go from zero to murderous in approximately .03 seconds, and had split the grocery list into thirds by section, then sent them all off with their own trolleys to get what was on the list. He'd also rewritten the entire thing in his own handwriting, probably just to keep Ed or Winry from being spiteful and 'forgetting' something the other one had added to the list. 

Al was wonderful and amazing and Ed was probably going to throttle him one day for getting in the way of his revenge. 

Incidentally, Al's plan would have worked perfectly – Ed and Winry might even have calmed down a bit, after twenty minutes spent communing with food products – if it weren't for that obnoxiously handsome State Alchemist bastard running into Ed's trolley with such a fake surprised look, Ed _knew_ he was fucking around. 

"What part," Ed snarled, making a half-hearted swipe at the fucker's way-too-fucking-tight shirt – he doubted actually hurting a member of the military would end well for him, even if they'd deserve it, as long as they'd been harassing him – but missed completely when he dodged, "of 'fuck off' do you not fuckin' _get_?"

"The part where you actually said as much?" Really Hot State Alchemist Bastard replied with a...weirdly attractive uncertain smile. 

Ed stopped, had to think about that for a second, before realising, yeah, actually, he'd never actually _said_ 'fuck off', but: "It was _strongly implied_ , moron. Or do _murderers_ only obey direct orders?" 

RHSAB actually _flinched_ at that, something dark passing over his face and making Ed almost regret his words. 

But then he recovered and tried a disarming sort of smile – _fuck_ , his face was _not fair_ – and held up his hands in a show of surrender. "I'm just here to shop for food, Dr Elric. It's my day off, and, honestly, even if it wasn't, I've been taken off your case." 

"My _case_?" Ed repeated incredulously. "What the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you people?! When're you gonna stop fuckin' _stalkin'_ me?!" Because, seriously, this shit had been going on for _almost three years_ , and no amount of 'no's seemed to make the military fuck off. 

RHSAB leant against the handle of his trolley and looked contemplative for a second, then started raising his weirdly attractive fingers as he counted off, "A complete and utter change of regime, you being thrown in prison for doing something unforgivable, or you dying." 

"Morbid, thanks," Ed deadpanned. 

"And I'm not completely certain being in prison would stop them," RHSAB commented with a shrug that was belied by the shadows in his eyes. "It wouldn't the the first time someone the military had condemned for life turned up somewhere they shouldn't have been." 

Ed _almost_ made a comment about the military's long-standing habit of rewarding war crimes, but he managed to hold his tongue. 

(See, Al? He was _too_ capable of reading social cues.) 

And then RHSAB was smiling again, but with a _flirty_ edge, which went to just plain _sultry_ as the fucker gave Ed a long look. "As I was saying, it's not my job to sweet-talk you into the military any more, but I'd love to sweet-talk you into my bed." 

Ed couldn't help the way his eyes went wide and his face heated. "What the _fuck_!" he said in a completely normal tone of voice that was nowhere near the vicinity a girlish screech. 

RHSAB's trolley gave a squeak of protest as he straightened and started past Ed. He paused just before they would have come even and leant in, his shoulder brushing Ed's. "The offer's open anytime, Dr Elric," he murmured, close enough Ed could feel the words fan out against his lips, and see that his eyes were actually a very dark blue, rather than the jet black they looked from a distance. 

And then RHSAB straightened again and was moving away for real. 

Ed turned to look after him and _fuck_ , those jeans were _way too tight_. Being something of an expert on wearing too-tight trousers, Ed would bet good money the bastard wasn't wearing anything under them, and the thought was starting to make _his_ trousers feel a bit too tight. 

"Oh, _man_ ," Winry said from somewhere in the general vicinity of behind him, and therefore _way_ less interesting than the unfairly sculpted arse that was just about to turn at the end of the aisle and move out of sight. "Talk about people you want to watch walk away. Bet I could make myself an automail penis." 

Ed tore himself away from RHSAB's arse so he could shoot her a disbelieving look. "You _have_ a girlfriend." 

Winry blinked at him. "Were you just blushin'? Did I miss somethin' important?" 

Ed tried very, _very_ hard to make his face cool down, which included leaning over into her trolley to pick out a couple bags of frozen vegetables and holding them to his cheeks. 

"Oh, _shit_. That was him, wasn't it? Your unfairly hot State Alchemist?" 

"He's not my fuckin' _anythin'_ , you nosy _hag_."

"Uh-huh," Winry agreed, utterly unconvinced. "Get his name this time?" 

Ed tossed the frozen vegetables back into her trolley. "The fuck'd I want his _name_ for?" 

"Uh, _duh_. So you can internet stalk him, then _real life_ stalk him and get some in a back room somewhere."

Ed covered his face. "I can't believe I'm related to you." 

Winry let out that sigh she always made when she was rolling her eyes at how incredibly _dense_ he was. "Pretty sure fourth cousins don't count, short stuff." 

Ed glared at her. "The fuck'd you just call me, you ugly witch?" 

" _Please_ ," Al interrupted before they could really get going, "for the sake of my sanity, do _not_ bring the supermarket down on our heads. We'll have to sell our souls to the military to pay for the damages." 

"Oh, _speakin'_ of the military–"

"Winry, I _swear_ I will kill you," Ed snarled. 

Winry just flashed him a sharp grin and swung her trolley around to block his attack as she told Al, "Ed ran into his dream man just now. And he _didn't ask his name_."

Al shot him a wounded look. "But, Brother, if you don't know his name, you can't internet stalk him." 

"Not you, _too_!"

"And if you can't _internet stalk_ him, you can't _real life_ stalk him and sneak into his office to get questionable body fluids on whatever paperwork the military has on you." 

"Why didn't I think of that?" Winry complained. 

" _Alphonse Elric_!" Ed shouted, torn between horror and embarrassment. 

Winry and Al traded looks, then both turned with their trolleys and ran for it. 

Ed totally got his victory that night, though, when he managed to shove one of their bars of soap in Al's mouth. 

-0-

Maes' notes had said half-past five, but Roy got to the coffee shop at five anyway, just to be safe, and grabbed a table right next to the self-serve coffee carafes. 

He should have trusted Maes, clearly, because Elric stumbled through the door at five thirty-six, traded a handful of cenz for a cup, and made his way over to the carafes. 

He'd finished filling his cup, taken a long sip – apparently without burning his tongue; Roy was duly impressed – and was fumbling for a lid when his eyes finally focussed on Roy. Whereupon he froze for a moment, then pointed at Roy with two lids stuck together and snapped, "Are you fuckin' _followin' me_?"

"Impossible," Roy returned mildly. "I've been here for half an hour." 

"You've got someone followin' me _for_ you," Elric assumed, before casting the room a suspicious look. 

"Also impossible," Roy...lied a little bit; Elric didn't need to know that his best friend was tracking his movements via CCTV from Central. "I no longer have access to military funds or personnel to do so. I simply enjoy changing up my morning coffee venue at times." 

Elric shot him a narrow-eyed glare as he finally managed to pull the lids apart one-handed and fit one over his cup without looking. "This is the wrong side of town for military douchebags," he said, deadpan. 

_Ouch_. Elric _really_ didn't like the military; not that Roy blamed him. 

"That just means the coffee grounds aren't the military-grade shit that they're legally required to sell closer to base," Roy offered with his best winning smile. 

Elric blinked once, then let out a laugh that sounded startled. "Holy shit," he said, expression twisted with disbelief. "I thought the military sucked all the fuckin' sense of humour out of you sort." 

It was early enough, Roy thought he could be forgiven for his amused mask slipping for a moment as he muttered, "You're not far off." 

He thought, for a moment, that he'd managed to keep quiet enough that Elric hadn't heard, but then he realised the man had just been taking a sip of his coffee, because as the cup lowered, his narrowed eyes landed back on Roy, staring at him like Roy might have done an array he'd never seen before. 

"If you hate the military so much, why're you still dancin' to their tune?" Elric asked before taking another sip of his coffee.

Perhaps five thirty was too early for him to try and charm his way into a quick fuck with Elric, Roy decided as he stood. He couldn't leave without _some_ sort of parting, but all he could dredge up was a flat, "Don't ever say yes to the military, Doctor. Once you do, you can never say no again." 

Elric grabbed his arm before Roy could brush past him, and his grip was as hard and unyielding as steel. Or _automail_ , Roy realised with some surprise; _that_ hadn't been in their file on him. 

"What's your name, Doom and Gloom?" Elric asked, his eyes intent, but a hint of colour shading his cheeks. 

Roy was reminded of Elric's full-on blush in the supermarket, which had been an absolute _treat_ , and while he'd love to see it again – trace how far down it travelled with his tongue, even – the little brushing of colour was... _Charming_ was the word for it. He sort of wanted to brush a thumb along the edge of it, press a kiss against the point where pink faded back into Elric's tan, and that was... 

New. Different. _Weird_. He didn't _do_ absent romance for his own pleasure, only for the the sake of winning over his partner for that night. 

Roy drew back, out of Elric's grip, and offered his hand for a shake. "Roy. Roy Mustang." 

Gold eyes went wide in recognition – Roy couldn't even _pretend_ to be surprised; his name might not be known by the civilian population in general, but no way a genius alchemist who kept having to dodge the military's attempts to win his loyalty wouldn't know him – and then his hand wrapped around Roy's, grip tight enough he couldn't quite keep from wincing. 

(That was definitely automail.) 

Elric leant in, something dark and horrible and too much like _loss_ in his eyes, and he warned, "Stop followin' me, before I give in to the urge to break your fingers." 

And then he let go, spun on one heel, and stalked from the coffee shop before Roy could finish shaking life back into his hand. 

South-eastern accent, he remembered. 

_Shit_.

-0-

Ed didn't slam the door when he made it home that night. He didn't kick off his boots, either, but took them off, one at a time, and set them gently down in the space left for them on the mat. 

When he made it to the living room, Al was half out of the couch, expression twisted with concern, and Winry was standing in the doorway that led back to their bedrooms, staring at him like she was just waiting for him to implode.

"Brother–"

"It's Mustang," Ed said. That was it. He didn't _need_ to say more. 

Winry went white and she sank slowly to the floor, clutching at the wall the whole way down, like she thought it might hold her up. Al dropped heavily into the couch, covering his face with one hand, and making a vague, flopping motion toward Winry. 

Ed didn't need that direction verbalised; as much as he and Al had lost in the out-of-control fire that had wiped what little had remained of Resembool off the map, they hadn't lost their entire family to it. (Their parents had already been gone long before the military brought their untrained _dogs_ to a war that never should have happened at all.) _Fuck_ , if it hadn't been for Ed and Al's alchemy teacher offering to take Winry in too, when they heard how bad the fighting had gotten while they were away training with her, Winry wouldn't have survived, either. Even just two days of delay would have left Ed and Al the only survivors of their town. And that...that haunted _all_ of them. 

He walked over to Winry and crouched down next to her, brushing her hair away from where it'd got caught in the stream of tears making its way silently down her cheek. "Hey," he whispered. 

Winry flung herself into his arms, and it was only the excellent craftsmanship of the leg she'd made him, that let him keep his balance as he hugged her tight, letting her sob into his shirt. 

It wasn't fair. For one, brief, _impossible_ moment, Ed'd thought he might have found a member of the military who wasn't just a dumb fool following orders, someone he could have maybe called a friend, once they'd sorted out that stalking problem. 

But, no. His life never worked that way. He never made the smart choice, never got the happy ending. 

None of them did. 

-0-

Edward Elric, according to every military or civilian record Roy or Maes could get their hands on, was a _ghost_. Before he'd started his PhD at East University nine years ago, he hadn't existed _anywhere_. No birth certificate on file, no family record, not even a note about someone looking for any survivors named 'Edward' after the war was over. _Nothing_. There wasn't even a record of his undergraduate or masters studies. If they were willing to chance hacking the East University database, they could probably find the information they needed there, but getting caught would get them both thrown in jail for the foreseeable future, and then Elric would probably come and kill him for snooping, or something. 

_"Could Elric be an assumed name?"_ Maes asked, frowning at Roy over video chat. (Or, well, frowning at the bottle Roy was making his steady way through, more likely; Maes had never approved of his drinking habit, but Roy didn't have anyone to come home to after a rough day at work, so he made do the same way his aunt had always taught him: Drink until you can't see straight and hope you threw it all up instead of dying of alcohol poisoning. Something like that.) 

Roy shrugged. "How the hell should I know?" he demanded, making an effort not to slur his words. If he started slurring, Maes would ring Riza and ask her to come over and lock up all his alcohol, then order him to bed at gunpoint. "All I've got is an _accent_."

An accent, and a _nightmare_. A surprise attack from behind not even a heartbeat after he'd snapped, aiming to bring down a couple of fleeing Ishvalans. His focus shattering, alchemy going completely out of control and blazing into an inferno hungry for crops and homes and innocent lives, while he couldn't do anything more than struggle desperately against the three men trying to hold him down. Beat him senseless. _Slit his throat_.

He wished they'd succeeded. 

_"ROY!"_ Maes shouted, shattering the memory. 

Roy shook his head and took a long swig of his drink, straight from the bottle. 

On the other side of the screen, Maes said, _"Riza, hi. Roy's drinking himself into a stupor again."_

"Traitor," Roy muttered into his bottle. 

_" **Thank you** ,"_ Maes said into his mobile, before saying, clearly to Roy, _"Stop pouting before your face sticks that way."_

"I fucked it up!" Roy shouted. Or, well, _tried_ to shout. Sounded a bit more like a wail, once it hit the air. He should have made the connection sooner. Should have given a false name, or just stopped at his first name, or... _anything_.

He could have slept with Elric, if he'd been smarter, _then_ told him who he was. Or not told him. Ever. 

_Shit_. Hadn't he maybe-probably-definitely ruined the kid's – young man's – life enough already? Why the hell would he ever want Elric to know who he was? Like, 'Oh, by the way, you just slept with the guy who _probably_ ruined your life. Isn't that _funny_?'

_No_.

His front door opened and Riza let out that sigh that meant 'I can't believe I swore myself to this idiotic _man-child_ ', then said, "Sir, please don't make me take the bottle from you. Again." 

Roy took a moment to debate that – he had a very fuzzy recollection of scotch going everywhere and Riza dumping him in the tub, turning on the cold water, and telling him to stay there until he either sobered up or died of hypothermia – while Maes said, _"Oh, I am **recording** this."_

"Good _night_ , Lieutenant Colonel," Riza said flatly, before clicking the mouse to close the chat window. 

Roy looked blearily up at her, squinting to try and get her face to come into focus, while she focussed on the computer. 

At last, she turned to him, her face blurring and morphing into something not quite human, and said, "The bottle. Now." 

Roy held it out to her and waited until she had a firm grip before letting go. 

"Thank you," she said, a hint of relief in her voice. 

"I'mma sh-shlee-heap. Here," Roy decided, letting himself tilt toward where he was fairly certain the couch cushions were.

Apparently, he was not, in fact, on the couch, because he fell off his perch and smashed his face against the extremely well-considered plush carpet. That was a good choice on his part. Excellent, even. It was very soft. Good carpet for face-smashing. Also probably for sleeping. 

Riza made that sigh again, and then there were hands under his arms and the carpet was moving away under him. 

Or he was moving. Being moved. 

Riza was moving him. 

In a series of really quite impressive moves that Roy only half followed, despite being involved in all of them, Riza got him into his bed, out of everything but his shorts, and under his covers. Then she vanished for a minute, and brought back two pills and a tumbler of water, the latter of which she made Roy drink, while the former were set on his bedside table, in front of the extremely loud alarm clock that he'd never been able to get rid of. 

Once she returned with a refilled tumbler of water, she set it down next to the pills and informed him, "If you attempt to skip work tomorrow, sir, I will come over here and follow you around, banging a pot next to your ear, until you crawl out of the house. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Traitor," Roy muttered to his pillow. Which was actually softer than the carpet. He needed to remember that. 

Riza sighed again, but a _different_ sigh, and leant over to kiss his forehead. The same way Auntie Chris'd always done when he wasn't feeling well. "Get some sleep, Roy," she murmured. "And try not to dream." 

_That_ was an idea Roy could get behind. 

-0-

There was a man in his office. Which had been _locked_.

Said man was relaxing back in his chair, boots balanced carefully on the corner, so the soles hung over the bin. He was wearing a bright pink t-shirt that said '#1 DAD' – ballsy; Ed didn't know many men who would have worn that in public – and had rectangular glasses that were reflecting the light from the hallway, hiding his eyes. 

"You know, I've got to hand it to you," Ballsy Dad said, not shifting from his position, despite Ed's best glare, "it's been a long time since it took me two weeks to find information on a person. It's no wonder the rest of the military's still scratching their arses and staring at the ceiling." 

'The rest of the military'. 

"Get out," Ed ordered, stepping to one side and pointing out the door. "Right fuckin' now. Before I call security." 

Ballsy Dad's mouth curled up with a knowing smile. "You won't," he said, so fucking certain, Ed wanted to punch him in the face. "I might go straight to East Command and tell them all about you, Dr Curtis." 

Ed's blood ran cold, freezing him stiff, for one long moment. How the _fuck_? The _only_ fucking people who knew Ed'd changed his name from Curtis back to Elric when he entered East Uni's PhD program, were the East Uni dean and his family. And not a _one_ of them would ever fucking tell that to a member of the military. 

He managed to drudge up enough friction to slam his office door closed and flip the switches for both the overhead light, and the mobile jammer (which he'd installed when a student's confiscated mobile'd gone off three times in a row, completely ruining his concentration), finally getting a better look at his visitor as he squinted against the wash of light from right above his head. Heavy stubble, square jaw, green eyes, and that shirt really was a _terrifying_ shade of pink. "The fuck d'you want?" he demanded. "Gonna fuckin' blackmail me?" 

Ballsy Dad's smile was probably meant to be comforting or some shit, but all Ed could see were the teeth kept carefully hidden behind his lips. "Nothing of the sort," he promised. 

( _Lied_. Ed would bet his _life_ on that.) 

"I just want to talk. You're lauded as a genius in alchemy, but I don't think anyone's realised exactly how clever you are with everything else, have they? Managing to hide your past like that, disguising your accent, hiding your arm." 

Ed clenched his automail fist as tight as it could go and snarled, "Get to the _point_."

"The accent's what threw me off, at first, honestly," Ballsy Dad said, tone fucking _conversational_. "I mean, south-eastern. Not a lot of people around any more who have it, especially as strong as you're pretending. Suggests you're from down near Ishval, where so many records were destroyed. Easy to get lost down there, pretend you're one of the lucky ones who managed to escape." 

Ed...blinked. 

Wait. 

This guy thought, what? That he was _actually_ a Curtis? That he'd been born and raised in Dublith? 

Did Teacher or Sig get some documents forged to protect them? Or, well, give them a history, an _identity_ , more likely. Something they could pull on, sometime down the road, when not having their birth records would come back to haunt them. 

Figured Teacher wouldn't have told them she had. She'd always been secretive, right up to the end. 

"The automail gave me a bit of trouble, too," Ballsy Dad continued, apparently unaware that he'd screwed something up. "Accidents that require automail prostheses usually get mentioned in the paper, especially when there's a kid involved, because that always spooks people, the idea of kids going through that." He gave a little shudder, pressing one hand to the centre of his shirt. 

"But there wasn't anything about an 'Edward' or an 'Ed' or any variation of male child having lost any part of their right arm before you popped up as Edward Elric. So I tried looking into transactions, because shops are required to keep records, but still _nothing_.

"So I took a little day trip out to Rush Valley, asked around about any black market deals involving minors. And, well, if there _were_ any, I didn't hear about it, which was good, because I wasn't there to report on pain merchants." 

Ed made a face; he'd heard his share of horror stories about the sorts of fuckers willing to give you automail on the cheap. They wouldn't use anaesthetic, sometimes connected shit wrong on purpose, either to get their 'customers' to come back again and again, or just because they _enjoyed_ that shit in some fucked up way. One fuck-shit – who Ed may or may not have been involved in beating bloody and then turning in – would fucking _stop_ in the middle of the surgery and get himself off listening to his victim's agony. 

Ballsy Dad nodded, likely in response to Ed's expression. "There are some seriously sick people in this world. But I didn't hear about any of them. _Did_ hear about this genius little blonde girl, though. A Winry Curtis–" Ed did his best not to react "–who'd apparently had a brother who needed automail. So she spent two years wandering around town, learning all the best tricks, and then vanished for a year. And when she got back, she was with her brother, who's right arm was automail." Ballsy Dad's expression darkened. "Your _parents_ let your _kid sister_ operate on you." 

"Fuck you," Ed said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Friend of the family's a doctor; he came in and did the surgery. All Winry did was make my arm." And his leg, but fuck if Ed was going to mention that part when Ballsy Dad didn't seem to know about it. 

"How'd it happen?" 

Right. Because Ed was really going to tell a _member of the military_ that he'd performed highly illegal alchemy at age eleven, put his brother in a coma for five years, lost his arm and leg, and terrified Winry to the point that she'd run away to Rush Valley for two years, trying to find a way to _fix him_ because she'd blamed herself for talking them into it. "None of your fucking business." 

Ballsy Dad's expression said he'd expected that response. "Traced you two back to Dublith, after that. Family of butchers, though word is your mum was a brilliant alchemist, so I guess that's where you got it." His expression softened, turned honest in a way that had Ed looking away. "I'm sorry to hear she died." 

Ed shrugged. "It wasn't some fuckin' surprise," he muttered, because they'd all known, since well before the Curtises had adopted them, that Teacher didn't have long to live. That she'd managed to survive the hell Ed's bad choice had dragged them all through, kept going until Al'd woken up and recovered and got accepted at South Uni, had been nothing short of a _miracle_. Equally miraculous was that Sig hadn't just given up the ghost, yet. But, every time they rang him, asked how he was doing, his response was always the same, 'She'd want me to be here for you kids, so I am. And I will be.'

(They'd never deserved the Curtises. Any of them. Using 'Elric' again and moving back east had been the only way Ed'd been able to think of to protect them, because he'd just barely managed to avoid the military's gaze while getting his masters in alchemy as young as he had. Deciding to go for his PhD and teach, hopefully keep any other stupid kids from making his mistakes, he knew he'd never be able to keep under the radar. And with Teacher's declining health and Al just woken up, he couldn't lead the military back to them. And when Winry and Al'd joined him, well... He couldn't say he'd been surprised.) 

"I did hear about your brother, though. Sickly as a child, your neighbours said. I assume he's the Alphonse Elric who's getting his biomedical masters here at East University." 

"Yes," Ed allowed flatly. (After his coma, Al hadn't really wanted to think about alchemy for a while, so he'd gone looking into other sciences. When he'd settled on a mix of biology and medicine, Ed had been right behind him the whole way. Because, honestly, the further his brother stayed away from alchemy, the better he'd feel; only one of them needed to carry this sin, and Al hadn't come through with the same hellish knowledge Ed had.) 

"Your sister seems to have disappeared, though," Ballsy Dad commented, clearly fishing. 

Ed just stared at him. As much as he'd figured out already, it wouldn't take the guy long to realise there was a Winry living with him and Al, but fucked if he was gonna make it _easy_ for him. 

Ballsy Dad smiled. "You really are quite tight-lipped, aren't you?" 

"I don't know who you are and I don't fuckin' know what you want with all this shit," Ed returned, narrowing his eyes. "Fuck, maybe I should just off you here. No one needs even know you swung by." 

"What's to say no one does?" Ballsy Dad shot back, still smiling. 

Ed smiled right back, showing teeth. "Keep it up, wise-arse. You military fucks've been pissin' me off for _years_ , now. You gonna start threatenin' my family, I'll be happy to show you what a fuckin' genius-level alchemist is capable of." He peeled off his right glove, holding up his steel fist between them. 

Ballsy Dad held his hands up in a show of peace. "No one's threatening your family, Doctor." 

"It sure fuckin' _sounds_ like you are, Mr I'm-Clearly-A-Dad-And-Proud-Of-It-But-Won't-Tell-You-My-Name." 

"Ah, touché." Ballsy Dad finally dropped his feet to the floor, sitting up and holding his left hand out over Ed's desk. "Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes. My wife's name is Gracia and my daughter, Elicia, is ten. They're both back in Central, where I'm stationed." 

Well, Ed was right about the ballsy. 

He reached out and took Hughes' hand to shake, only to be yanked forward across his own desk, finding himself face-to-face with a man fully willing to commit murder. "My best friend, though, is here," he hissed, while Ed stared at him, off balance. "I think you've met: Roy Mustang." 

Ed managed to yank himself away at that, snarling, "I shoulda fuckin' known." Not many people shook his right hand and found out about the automail, and Mustang'd been the only military person with that dubious pleasure. 

"Shouldn't you have?" Hughes asked as he stood, easily towering over Ed, and no longer looking even a _little_ bit like the friendly man he'd been while baring way too many of Ed's secrets. "After all, who else have you been _torturing_ this past–"

" _Me_?!" Ed shouted, pointing to himself. "I'm not the self-assured little _puppy_ who decided to go playin' with high-level alchemy and burnt down three fuckin' villages!" 

"You have _no_ idea what you're talking about!" Hughes snapped. "I've spent the last seventeen years trying to hold him together after that! And _you_ undid _all my work_ in _one day_!"

" _Good_ ," Ed snarled. "Because while _you_ were trying to keep a murderer from self-destructin', I spent seventeen years listenin' to my _best friend_ cry out for her parents and grandmother every fuckin' night. I've spent seventeen years watchin' the kindest fuckin' couple in the whole of this rotten country _bend over backwards_ to raise three kids who weren't their own. 

" 'Cause my brother and Winry and me, we got _lucky_. We weren't in Resembool when your _friend_ burnt it to the ground. We lost fuckin' _everythin'_ that night, so you better fuckin' believe I'm good with Mustang sufferin'. He _deserves_ it." 

Hughes, Ed noted with a grim sort of amusement, had got progressively more pale the longer he'd spoken. Like he'd only just realised what his _chum_ had done all those years ago. 

Or, perhaps, he'd just realised he wouldn't be getting any fucking _apologies_ from Ed, because he wasn't the one who needed to be giving them. 

He pointed behind himself, at his door. "Get. Out," he ordered, low and furious. 

Wisely, Hughes sidled out past him and left, the door closing softly behind him. 

Ed gave himself about half a minute to fail to calm down, then let out the scream of rage/pain/loss and punched the top of his desk. 

The desk split with a sharp ' _crack_ ' and the legs sort of flipped up to either side, sending books, paperwork, his computer, and fuck alone knew what-all else crashing to the floor. 

He wasn't sure he cared. 

-0-

Roy stared a bit uncertainly at the door in front of him for a long moment. Because while Maes' account of Elric's reaction – of how much Elric's friend had _suffered_ because of him – had made a pretty convincing argument for why Roy owed the young woman _something_ , and asking Elric was the quickest way to get in contact with her. 

Of course, Maes' certainty that Elric was terrifying and should be avoided at all costs and 'Don't even _think_ about it, Roy, or I'll drag you back to Central with me and _damn_ waiting for that promotion' was a...little hard to shrug off. (If he survived the visit, Riza would probably help Maes get him onto the train, and then shoot him if he ever returned to East City. 'For your own good'.) 

(Rank, it turned out, didn't trump friendship, especially when said friends were afraid you were suicidal. Which he _wasn't_. He just... He hadn't been aware there'd been any survivors. And now he _did_ , he couldn't walk away without offering his apologises.) 

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Roy knocked. 

It didn't take long for the door to be yanked open, and Roy found himself facing gold eyes full of _rage_. (And it was _entirely inappropriate_ that it just made him even _more_ gorgeous; Roy never should have told him his name.) "I thought," Elric snarled, "I made it _clear_ , last time, that you were to stay the _fuck_ away from me." 

Roy raised his hands in a show of surrender, remembered what Elric had said last time about breaking his fingers, and almost yanked his hands back behind his back. He cleared his throat and quietly managed. "I just– I came to...apologise. To you. And to your friend, if you'll tell me where I can find her." 

"We don't need your _apologies_ ," Elric snarled right back, utterly unmoved. "And like fuckin' _hell_ I'm gonna let you _anywhere near_ Winry. You've fuckin' hurt her _enough_."

Roy couldn't quite help but flinch, at that, because it had sounded like that was...very much true. But _still_. "You deserve an apology." 

" _No_ ," Elric returned, his voice going flat and cold in a way that sent a chill down Roy's spine. And _this_ was the man that had scared Maes, wasn't it? "You're just _desperate_ for someone to fuckin' _forgive_ you. But everyone else is already _dead_ , so all there is is _us_. Three lost little orphans who're young enough and _dumb_ enough we might just have _pity_ on your sorry state." 

He cast his gaze up and down Roy, same as the first time they'd met, but so much _crueller_. Seeking out flaws and finding them, Roy was certain, in the careless stains on his white shirt; the week-old, ragged attempt at a beard and moustache, which did absolutely _nothing_ in the way of ageing his face; and the faint smell of alcohol that always seemed to follow him around when Roy started depending on it to get him through the day. 

And then Elric met his eyes again, no sign of kindness in his eyes, just a diamond-like hardness. "You're seventeen years too late, _dog_."

"Ed?" a female voice called from inside the flat, and Elric went stiff, a sort of 'oh, _shit_ ' expression crossing his face.

A pretty blonde woman came up behind him, easily tall enough to see over Elric's shoulders, and the way she went pale and still, when she saw Roy, told him _this_ was Winry Curtis. (Or whatever her birth name had been.) 

She'd been right here, living under Roy's nose, for who knew how long. 

And maybe Elric was right, maybe Roy _was_ just looking for forgiveness and this was the closest he'd ever find in this life. Maybe he should just turn away, get back to Central and never darken their doorstep again. But he wasn't that strong, so he took a step back and bowed as low as his slightly tipsy balance would let him, then told his shoes, "I'm sorry." 

"Win–" Elric started. 

"Shut up, Edward," the woman replied, and Elric fell silent with such speed, Roy was actually a little impressed. Also, vaguely freaked out; Elric didn't strike him as the sort of person who would just go quiet at a word. 

There was a long, strained silence – during which Roy just kept staring down at his scuffed boots – which was finally broken by the woman saying, "Let him in," and then the sound of footsteps moving away. 

When Roy finally looked up, Elric had stepped back, holding the door wide open, and his expression was still shaded with anger, but also with a sort of grim pity that started Maes' rendition of a funeral dirge playing in Roy's head as he stepping inside. 

-0-

Really, Ed couldn't begin to guess what Winry'd been thinking when she told him to let Mustang in, but he honestly wouldn't be surprised if it turned out she intended to gag him, then start breaking things. Which, well, he actually sort of hoped she _wouldn't_ , because none of them wanted to deal with the fall out of that particular course of action, but he'd understand. Because this fucker'd gone and _decimated_ her family, and fuck knew Ed'd been totally ready to start breaking fingers soon as he heard his name, and he'd only suffered a quarter the loss Winry had. 

Too, Teacher's training didn't tend to result in a tendency toward handling confrontations bloodlessly. 

Al'd joined Winry by the time Ed followed Mustang into the living room, half motioning him forward, half blocking his escape. Winry was still a little pale, but she'd settled pretty obviously into simmering fury, as opposed to the incandescent rage he'd been expecting, so Al must have talked her down some. (That, or Mustang's pathetic appearance; she _was_ a trained automail engineer and trained to assist with the attachment procedure, which required some form of heart.) Al, next to her, was just watching, his best blank face on and his arms crossed loosely over his chest, like he maybe couldn't decide if he'd need to stop himself – or Winry or Ed, more likely – from throwing a punch. 

"Have a seat," Al suggested mildly, unfolding his arms and motioning toward their mismatched couch and living room chair, both of which had been cleaned of their customary papers, books, and/or cats. As Mustang settled cautiously into the chair, Al asked, "Would you like a drink?" 

"Is it going to be poisoned?" Mustang asked, tone more tired than Ed expected he'd been aiming for, based on their previous encounters. 

"We don't have anything currently in stock that would result in a painful enough death," Winry threw out in that chipper, 'death is coming for you' voice that Ed was about eighty percent certain she'd developed while she'd been living on her own in Rush Valley as a way to keep perverts from trying to take advantage of her. 

Al sighed and threw Ed a helpless look, which he shrugged at; he had absolutely zero control over Winry, and he was pretty certain that his usual last resort – ringing Lan Fan and passing the mobile over so she could calm Winry down – would just result in Mustang's blood painting their living room. So. 

"I'll get the water pitcher and some glasses," Al decided, before turning and vanishing into the kitchen. 

Ed managed to get Winry to sit on the couch while Al was gone, on the far end from Mustang, and Al took the open spot closest to the fucker without any comment. 

"So," Winry demanded while Al started pouring water into each of the four glasses, "why did you come? Hopin' one of us would do the world a favour and off you?" 

"I just wanted to apologise," Mustang said quietly, no sign of the self-assuredness Ed was used to seeing from him. 

_Pitiful_.

"He wants fuckin' _forgiveness_ ," Ed spat. 

Mustang mumbled a "Thank you," as he accepted a glass from Al, and refused to meet any of their eyes. 

"I'll shove my 'forgiveness' up his _arse_ ," Winry snarled, and Ed had a brief wonder if she'd actually started working on some sort of automail cock after all; he wouldn't put it past her. 

Al sighed and leant around Ed to shove a glass of water against Winry's nose, which she snatched with a glare. (Ed grabbed one of the two remainders before his brother could try something similar on him.) "You can't _ask_ for forgiveness," Al commented mildly as he leant back on the couch, shoulder bumping against Ed's. "That's not how forgiveness works. You can try to earn it, through your actions, but forgiveness is always a gift, never a right, and just because you've been given it, doesn't mean you can accept it." 

They knew that, the three of them. Because Winry had pounded apologies into every line of Ed's arm and leg, Ed slipped his apologies between every word of caution written in dozens of papers and spoken in a thousand different lectures, and Al had turned his apologies to the task of helping the victims of crimes and accidents of the future. And, still, none of them could believe they'd earned the forgiveness the other two were all-too-ready to give. 

Silence fell between them, weighted with their own sins, and Ed couldn't look at Mustang, because then he might remember that everyone deserved a second chance. Mum and Auntie Sarah and Uncle Yuriy and Granny had all believed that, and they didn't need to be alive for Ed to feel the ghost of their kindness, weighing heavy on his shoulders. 

"Will you tell us," Al asked quietly, at last, "about what happened that day? All we've ever known was the fire was caused by alchemy, and spread too quickly for anyone caught in its path to get away." 

Mustang cleared his throat and roughly admitted to where his glass of water hung down, between his knees, "That's essentially what happened." 

"Okay, but _why_? How?" Al pressed, and Ed shot him a frown that his brother didn't see, far too intent on Mustang. 

Mustang was utterly still for a moment, before he sat up and looked at Al. "Do you know anything about fire alchemy?" 

Al and Winry, of course, both looked at Ed, and Mustang followed suit after a short delay, tired black eyes – which were actually dark blue, and Ed _hated_ that he knew that, that he'd _liked_ knowing that – catching Ed's gaze and holding. 

Ed cleared his throat, couldn't look away from Mustang as he admitted, "It's not somethin' I've ever had any interest in studyin', for obvious reasons, but assume it's a matter of molecular manipulation – flammable gases, most probably, and maybe oxygen to feed the flames? – making a path to your target and controllin' the strength of the explosion." 

Mustang just sort of stared at him for a long moment, a disbelieving sort of awe in his eyes, and Ed had to tear his gaze away before he started blushing or whatever shit again. _Fuck_. Why'd the bastard have to be so fucking _attractive_ , anyway? 

Mustang cleared his throat. "Essentially," he agreed. "However, most flammable gases tend to be difficult to control, so the variation I use focusses entirely on manipulating a string of oxygen to a flammable non-gas." 

That...made a lot more sense. Less likely to blow up in your face unexpectedly. 

Or turn into a raging, starving inferno of flames that jumped between houses and plants and lifeforms almost faster than it could devour them. 

Ed turned back to Mustang, eyes narrowed, because if Mustang only dealt in oxygen, there's no fucking _way_ he could have caused that tragedy. "I'm listenin'," he said in as neutral a voice as he could manage, and Winry shifted next to him, very likely reading his change in attitude, since she couldn't follow the intricacies of the alchemy. 

Mustang looked away, back down to his glass. When he spoke, his voice was flat, coldly factional, and Ed didn't need to have suffered his share of trauma to recognise a coping mechanism. (Neither did Al or Winry, by the way they shifted and traded slightly guilty frowns.) 

"My orders were to neutralise two wounded Ishvalan targets who had fled into a nearby Amestrisan village. It was a simple mission, and my squad had just been involved in a minor skirmish. I left them behind to rest and see to injuries, didn't expect taking out two already wounded men to provide any difficulty, and a brief flash of flame in the night had been determined to be less disturbing to civilians than gunshots. 

"The Ishvalans saw me coming and attempted to run. I stopped and activated my alchemy, concentrating on directing the fire. I didn't notice the men who had snuck up behind me until it was too late, and was too occupied with them to turn my focus back to either my original targets or the spreading fire. 

"I was later told my misdirected fire hit a propane tank on the side of someone's house, which is certainly the most likely scenario. The initial explosion took out my two targets, and the rest was marked as _acceptable losses_." He spat the last two words, like they were poison he'd been made to swallow. 

Every bitter comment about the military, his warning not to give in to their attempts to recruit him, every time he hadn't tried to defend himself or other soldiers when Ed had cursed them... 

Mustang hated the military just as much as Ed and Al and Winry, didn't he? 

They were all silent for a long moment, because...what did you say to that? It wasn't easy to shift the grief and fury of seventeen years to a different target, just like that. 

"I'm sorry," Mustang said, and he sounded... _raw_. The same as any one of them would after remembering _that night_. "If I'd been smarter, more aware–"

"Stop," Winry said, a whisper of something broken in her voice, and Ed didn't need to look at her to know there were tears in her eyes. 

She stood, and Mustang flinched, and something in Ed's chest _ached_.

Winry walked slowly around the coffee table, wiping at her eyes with both hands, and came to a stop next to the chair Mustang was _huddled_ in, like he was just waiting for the axe to fall. 

But Winry didn't have an axe, all she had were her own two arms, and Ed couldn't even _pretend_ to be surprised when she leant down and wrapped them around Mustang, saying, "I forgive you." 

Mustang's glass slipped from his fingers and spilled water across the carpet, even as he let out a great, _wretched_ sort of sob, one that sounded like he'd been choking on it for seventeen years. 

Yeah, Ed knew that feeling, too. 

-0-

The tiny part of Roy that had expected forgiveness to set him free, was sorely disappointed, and he was coming to see what Elric's brother had said about how receiving forgiveness didn't always mean you could _accept_ it. 

Still, he felt a...little lighter, after everything. They hadn't said much after Miss Winry had hugged him, had given him time to gather himself, then the younger Elric had driven Roy back home, where he'd had to soothe Maes and Riza's concerned fury before he was allowed to crawl into bed and sleep. 

And suffer nightmares all night, which figured. 

But he'd got up in the morning, finally shaved and made an attempt at his appearance, and tried to remember the reason he'd stayed in the military, instead of giving in to the very real need to just shoot himself and go straight to hell, where he belonged. 

He pulled himself back together, as much as he'd ever been able to, and gave himself time. And, eventually, a certain mission crossed his desk again, everyone else above him having failed even _more_ spectacularly than Roy had, to get a certain far too clever and impossibly gorgeous head of alchemic studies to so much as give them the time of day. 

Roy wondered, a bit bitterly, if it was even worth trying to finally take Elric out on that date he'd had half planned, after everything. 

-0-

"How is it," Ed asked flatly when he found Mustang leaning casually against the wall outside his office almost ten months after his visit to their flat, "that every other member of the military gets caught and dragged off the grounds by security before they can so much as _touch_ this buildin', and yet you and Mr Number One Dad keep findin' your way to me, unmolested?" 

"Fashion sense?" Mustang suggested, motioning to his...extremely tight jeans and t-shit, the latter emblazoned with the words 'Flame On!' Which was so fucking tacky, only someone as unfairly gorgeous as this fuck could have possibly pulled it off and still left Ed wanting to throw all sense out the window and just fuck him across his desk. 

"If you get 'moron' tattooed on your forehead, it'd have the same effect," Ed informed him as he unlocked his door and shoved it open. 

"That would certainly do away with the need for clothing entirely," Mustang said in a distractingly low voice. 

Ed almost tripped as his brain, assisted by the tightness of Mustang's clothing, provided him with an _extremely unhelpful_ image of the fucker walking around campus nude. He cleared his throat and dropped his lecture notes onto his desk, then demanded, "What the fuck d'you want, anyway?" before turning around. 

Mustang, it turned out, had stopped _right behind him_ , and being backlit might have protected Ed from his expression, but not from the low purr of his voice as he said, "Your file ended up on my desk, again. So I thought I could take you out to the most expensive restaurant in East City and waste all the military's money while I enjoy the view of you sitting across from me for a couple hours." 

Ed was pretty certain he'd just gone that particular shade of red he'd thought reserved for when Winry caught him masturbating and offered to help. Still, he'd had ten months to mull over how he felt about Mustang – and endure Al and Winry's less-than-subtle suggestions that he could go over to the man's house and fuck him once without having to see him ever again – and no amount of blushing would keep him from grabbing the front of Mustang's shirt and yanking him down to snarl against his lips, "That dinner better fuckin' end at your place, or I'll–"

Mustang's mouth slotted over his, and hands grabbed his arse, pulling him in close. 

Ed'd never been so happy to be interrupted. 

-0-

Roy was somehow utterly unsurprised when dinner was spent arguing alchemic theory, though he _was_ surprised by how much he'd got into it, having rather removed himself from most things to do with alchemy since the fire, unless it was somehow related to his work as a State Alchemist. But Elric was just so _passionate_ about alchemy, and so _gorgeous_ in his passion – especially with the way the glow of the restaurant's ambient lighting had turned him into a _beacon_ of gold – it had been utterly _impossible_ to resist his pull. 

Somehow, without even noticing it, Roy'd got drawn into Elric's orbit, and he wasn't sure he had the energy to expend in escaping it again. (He could _almost_ hear Maes humming asking when the wedding was going to be, and resolved to _never_ let him find out Elric had the potential to be something more than one of his usual one night stands.) 

He absolutely _did_ take Elric back to his place, and they were kissing again before he managed to get his front door open, Elric licking into his mouth with the sort of intensity that left Roy reeling, wondering – hoping? – if he was intending to carve out a space for himself in there. 

Somehow, they managed to stumble into the house and get the door closed behind them. Roy couldn't bother to think about locking it behind them, just attempted to lead Elric to the couch, at least, before they could shed more than their tops. 

They didn't make it _around_ the couch, as Elric spun Roy with a move that looked and felt so effortless, he breathed out a " _Fuck_ ," right before Elric pushed him forward over the back of the couch. 

"That," Elric said in a voice so deep and promising, Roy forgot all about his plans to fuck the blond, "is my intention." 

Roy scrabbled for the condoms and lube he'd shoved between the cushions in case they didn't make it upstairs, while Elric nipped his way down his spine, hands sliding down the outsides of his legs and around to the front of his too-tight trousers. One hand started playing with the zip of his flies, lowering and raising it in time with the stroke of his other hand along his thigh and pelvis, staying _just_ out of range and Roy–

Groaned, gasped, pushed back against Elric's crotch with enough force to make it obvious that he wasn't going to be _teased_.

Elric chuckled against the bare skin of his back, which was all the warning Roy got before his flies were opened and a warm hand had slid deftly into his briefs to wrap around his cock. 

Roy _may_ have made a slightly embarrassing keening noise. But, in his defence, it had been a few months since he'd seen any action outside his own hand. 

"I hope," Elric murmured, "you have lube and condoms down here." 

Roy held up his handful, and was only a little surprised when the hand that took it was silver, because there was a difference between _knowing_ Elric had automail – his whole arm, Maes had said, but most of it was still covered by the sleeve of his shirt, which he apparently hadn't shrugged off, though Roy had managed to unbutton it before he'd got bent over his couch – and actually _seeing_ it for the first time. He'd expected it to be clumsier, or at least look more functional than aesthetically pleasing, but he'd clearly misjudged either Elric's own tastes, or Miss Winry's skills, because Elric's steel hand was as beautiful as the rest of him, glowing slightly in the light from the hall. 

"Excellent," Elric said, and his hand pulled away from Roy's cock. 

Roy couldn't quite keep his body from pressing forward, against the back of the couch, but he did manage to keep from making any more potentially embarrassing noises. 

Elric must have set the lube and condoms down – a glance back found them perched on the back of the couch, to Roy's right – because two hands – one warm, one cool steel – eased his trousers and briefs down, being so irritatingly careful not to bump his cock. Elric murmured something too low for Roy to hear as he pulled Roy's trousers the rest of the way down. A light tap on his left thigh and an order of, "Step," had him moving his left foot out to the side. 

He had about half a second to feel uncomfortably naked, and then there came the familiar sound of the lube top popping, followed shortly by fingers smoothing over his sphincter, which he could _feel_ twitching at the contact. He cleared his throat and warned, "It's been a while." 

Elric's fingers paused so briefly he almost didn't notice, and then the blond said, "Seriously? _How_? I've wanted to fuck you since the first time you walked away." 

Well, now. That was certainly a delicious ego boost, and Roy pressed back as Elric's fingers passed over his sphincter again. 

Elric took the hint, and his finger slid all the way in, knuckles pushing against Roy's skin. 

And, ooh, it really _had_ been a while, and the intrusion felt a little bit awkward, but Roy determined to ignore it as he said, "Something else we have in common, then; I've wanted to fuck you since before you opened your mouth the first time." 

"That a fuckin' comment on somethin'?" Elric demanded, his south-eastern accent so heavy, Roy was fairly certain he'd know _exactly_ what Roy'd meant. 

"Yea-ah," Roy managed, voice catching as Elric pressed a second finger into him. "I still want to fuck you." 

Elric laughed at that, low and warm, and Roy glanced back over his shoulder, found gold eyes watching him with a warmth that would have sent him running for the hills ten months ago. 

Rather than musing over that change, Roy nodded toward where Elric's automail arm was just hanging by his side, only his hand visible under the shirt he was still wearing. "Are you going to use that?" he asked. 

Elric looked startled for a moment, glancing down at his hand like he'd forgot it was there. (Roy didn't know enough about the mechanics of automail to assume he _hadn't_.) And then Elric's mouth twisted with a smile that looked a little self-deprecating, before shaking back the sleeve and reaching out to trail steel fingers up Roy's back. 

He closed his eyes, let himself just _feel_ for a moment. Elric's fingers in his arse had got to the point where it actually felt kind of nice – there was something to be said for being _not empty_ – and the trail of cool steel against his back was...hesitant, almost, but it felt nice against the heat of his skin, and he arched his back into the touch. 

Elric let out quiet, slightly startled sound, and then his whole hand was pressing flat against Roy's flesh, leeching warmth for one, soothing moment. And then he pulled away. 

Roy opened his eyes and glanced back in time to see Elric lifting a condom square to his mouth, catching one corner between his teeth and ripping it open. 

With a level of dexterity that Roy was actually a little jealous of, Elric managed to undo his own flies and shove his trousers and boxers down far enough to free an extremely generous cock – Roy may or may not have licked his lips and entertained a brief fantasy of going down on him – which he quickly covered in the condom. 

Then – and only then – did Elric pull his fingers from Roy's anus, which would have been a lot less enjoyable if Roy didn't then get to watch as Elric squirted a bit of lube into his left hand, then took hold of himself to apply it, his eyes sliding shut and a long groan slipping out between his clenched teeth. 

Roy decided, right then and there, that Elric wasn't going to be leaving his house until he'd completely destroyed his self-control, because he'd bet the blond would make the most _gorgeous_ noises when he gave himself up. 

Elric's eyes opened just enough to see his pupils had blown wide, and then his automail hand was bracing against Roy's rear, as his flesh hand guided his cock into Roy. 

He bowed his head against the back of the couch, breathing in the lingering scent of one too many binge drinking sessions resulting in his drink splashing on the fabric of the couch, and curling his fingers in the well-worn fabric of the cushions. 

_Gods_ , Elric was big. Not painfully so, no, but– Filling. Comfortable. Weirdly, inexplicably _perfect_.

And _careful_ , which Roy never would have pegged him as, the way he so liberally sprinkled everything he said with curses, but his every move had been designed not to hurt, even that casual spin to get Roy bending over his couch. 

He had about half a heartbeat to wonder about the idiosyncrasies of Dr Edward Elric, and then said doctor was leaning down along his back, mismatched hands bracketing Roy's waist, and asking, his voice beautifully rough, "You okay?" 

_Okay_?

"Yes," Roy rasped, before shifting pointedly back. 

Elric laughed, low and promising, and then he was straightening away from Roy's back, his shirttails brushing against his sides, and mismatched hands slid down and tightened on his hips. And then he was retreating, condom dragging at the edges of Roy's sphincter, before pushing back in just that littlest bit faster. 

Roy had to keep pushing him to go faster, _harder_ , until Elric finally bowed forward, long hair tickling along Roy's spine, and gave in. 

Roy, likewise, gave up any hope at coherency for a while, especially when Elric's left hand curled around in front of him and took a hold of his cock. 

One rather transcendent orgasm later, Elric mumbled against his back, where he was slumped, " 'S a very nice couch. Where'd'ya get it?" 

Roy took a moment to try a puzzle that out, then decided, "No idea. Central, probably." 

Elric let out a disappointed sound – Roy didn't think it was really _that_ nice a couch – and then carefully pulled away. 

Roy couldn't quite manage to muffle his discontent noise as Elric pulled out of him entirely, leaving him noticeably empty, and Elric almost immediately rubbed at the small of his back with his flesh hand, saying, "Sorry," with so much regret, Roy wondered what he thought he had to apologise for. 

He straightened slowly, determined he didn't ache anywhere near as much as the last time he'd let someone take him, and turned to raise an eyebrow at Elric, who was focussed on removing and tying off the condom. "Why, exactly, are you sorry?" he asked, tone gone a bit dry. "I'm not." 

Elric looked up at him, expression vaguely startled. "I just–" He stopped, frowned a bit, and shook his head before looking back up at Roy with a poor attempt at a smirk. "Oh? Was that a request for a redo?" 

Roy stepped forward and took the used condom in one hand, tossing it in the general direction of the nearest bin, while he ran his other hand up the thin strip of Elric's chest that was visible between the halves of his opened shirt. "Absolutely," he murmured, because he found he really wouldn't mind that position again, though... "But, only if I can have _you_ first." 

Pink dusted across Elric's cheeks, and he opened his mouth to respond, but then Roy's left hand brushed under his shirt, half thinking to push it off (and maybe get a look at the rest of his arm), and Elric flinched away. 

Roy stepped back, raising his hands in a sort of calming gesture, and said, "Doc–" Sex generally meant first names were acceptable, in Roy's experience. "Edward?" 

Elric's throat bobbed with an obvious swallow, and he said, "The scars aren't particularly pretty." 

"I think," Roy replied, "I know a little something about ugly scars." 

Elric frowned at that, apparently blind to the narrow scar at the top of Roy's throat, despite being at a good angle to see it, but did finally shrug out of his shirt. 

There actually wasn't much visible scarring, but Roy suspected that was because of the large plate that was stretching out from his shoulder, looking a little like it was making a bid for his sternum. 

He didn't have much experience with automail – by which he meant he knew a couple soldiers with it, but he'd never slept with any of them, or done any research on it – but Elric's arm was far from the bulky, weaponised pieces he was familiar with. It looked to be close enough to the shape and size of his left arm, it was no wonder the military hadn't realised he had it. 

Roy stepped forward again and caught Elric's steel hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of. The fingers sort of...flexed, in his hold, and he glanced up to find Elric looking at him like he'd just done something _unbelievable_.

Elric cleared his throat, then muttered, "What're you, some sort of automail freak like Winry?" 

It occurred to Roy – a bit belatedly, probably – that Elric likely hid his automail not as a way to keep anyone from tracing his past through it, as Maes had assumed, or as some sort of secret weapon, as Roy had assumed, but simply because he, himself, didn't care for it. Wore it because it was necessary – and because Miss Winry had made it for him – but his reactions, his _comment_ , suggested that he would very much have preferred it didn't exist. 

Roy wondered, not for the first time, what had happened, but he doubted he'd be hearing that story anytime soon. 

So, instead of asking, he smiled and murmured, "I'm simply taking my chance to appreciate _all_ of you, my dear Edward." 

Elric didn't flush like Roy had been intending, though. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he asked, "All of me?" before yanking his hand away and unceremoniously shoving his trousers and boxers down, revealing that his left leg, starting just above his knee, was _also_ automail. "Still feel like appreciatin' it?" he demanded, every word brimming with hostility. 

Roy's heart, inexplicably, felt like it was falling to pieces, and he honestly couldn't say if it was due to whatever Elric had suffered that lost him _two_ limbs, or if it was because he was familiar enough with hating himself, he could tell that Elric's hostility wasn't aimed at Roy at all, but at _himself_.

Roy remembered Maes telling him about Miss Winry spending _two years_ learning about automail on her own, how protective Elric had been of her and his brother, and the younger Elric's comment about not always being able to accept forgiveness, even once you'd earned it. And it occurred to him, that he wasn't the only one struggling with a past he would give almost _anything_ to be able to rewrite. 

He leant in and whispered, "Absolutely," against Elric's mouth, then caught his chin and pulled him into a hard kiss. 

Elric let out a broken noise and moved in close, mismatched hands catching at Roy's shoulders. His real hand held on so tightly, Roy was fairly certain he'd end up with bruises, but the automail was barely touching him, and Roy interrupted the kiss to reach up and cover Elric's right hand with his own, murmuring, "I'm not _that_ delicate." 

Elric snorted, and Roy couldn't tell if that was self-disgust or dry humour in his voice when he murmured back, "You realise I can crush a person's wrist if I'm not careful." 

On second thought, maybe he _was_ that delicate. 

Changing the topic, Roy offered, "I have an extremely comfortable bed upstairs." 

Elric's eyes _gleamed_. "Are you propositionin' me?" 

"Technically," Roy admitted, "I trying to get you into bed so we can sleep for a bit. And then, yes–" he grabbed Elric's arse and pulled them flush, pleased to surprise a gasp from the blond "–I very much intend to fuck you into my mattress. Assuming you're amenable?" 

"I am very, _extremely_ amenable," Elric promised. "Count me amenable number one." 

Roy let himself laugh at that, a little surprised at how _honest_ it sounded, then led Elric up to his room. 

-0-

"So," Winry said as Ed walked into the living room well after noon the next day, "how was it?" 

Ed paused to consider that, then flashed her a smile and kept on toward his room. 

"Well?" Al called from the kitchen. 

"Ten out of ten, will absolutely bang again!" Winry translated. 

Al laughed. "When's the weddin'?" 

"After Winry's!" Ed shot back, peeking back into the living room just to watch Winry sort of freeze, pink blooming over her cheeks. 

"Winry, when's the weddin'?" Al called. 

"Don't go puttin' this on me, Edward!" Winry snapped, pointing a threatening finger at him. 

Ed winked at her, just for the sheer pleasure of her irritated snarl, then finally retreated to his room. 

For once, life felt like it was going _right_.

-0-

> While he is inarguably an intelligent alchemist, Dr Edward Elric is far more suited to teaching theory in a classroom, than being involved in any practical application of alchemy. It is my opinion that the military is better served seeking Dr Elric's students, than continuing to antagonise him to the point that he turns an entire generation of alchemist hopefuls against the military.  
>  Colonel Roy Mustang  
>  East City
> 
> Sir, as Colonel Mustang is the only person who has managed to participate in a conversation with Dr Elric that lasted longer than five minutes, I recommend you consider his advice with more weight than the others you've so far received.  
>  Lieutenant General George Grumman  
>  East City Commander
> 
> APPROVED BY THE OFFICE OF FÜHRER KING BRADLEY

.


End file.
